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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493913">The Golden Boots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pergamond/pseuds/pergamond'>pergamond</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, RPG</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:07:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pergamond/pseuds/pergamond</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mini-story based in the TeniPuri AU-RPG, "Karura". A space-themed TeniPuri RPG where all Prince of Tennis characters are onboard a starship known as the Karura [https://karurarpg.dreamwidth.org/]. Atobe is the proprietor of the ship's exclusive "Ice Bar", with his bar tender (mentioned but not in this story), Kikumaru. Yukimura is a bounty hunter. Kamio's likely death is mentioned.</p><p>In this story, Atobe wanted to buy a pair of exclusive golden boots, but someone got there first. Inspired by this image: https://bit.ly/3pHiXYq</p><p>Extract:<br/>Carefully lifting the only crate for which Kikumaru had actually obeyed his command not to touch—and resignedly stepping over the splintered remains of the others— Atobe slide a silver knife between wooden slats and pried the lid upwards. Nestled in a bed of silken ruffles lay six martini glasses.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Golden Boots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulminata/gifts">fulminata</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carefully lifting the only crate for which Kikumaru had actually obeyed his command not to touch—and resignedly stepping over the splintered remains of the others— Atobe slide a silver knife between wooden slats and pried the lid upwards. Nestled in a bed of silken ruffles lay six martini glasses.</p><p>With a small exhale of appreciation, Atobe lifted one glass by its slender stem and held it up against the soft lights that had been recently installed in the Karura’s Ice Bar. A pearlescent sheen rippled within the glass, accenting but not obscuring the contents within. And only the finest contents would be within. This was an Atobe establishment.</p><p>Placing the glass on the marble counter, Atobe reached back into the crate to remove five of its siblings, each as exquisite as the first.</p><p>Exquisite. That described the goal of his search when he had purchased the martini glasses. An item perfect enough to replace the loss of the seasonal gift to himself that should even now be adorning his feet. Of course, the fact that there were six glasses detracted from their perfection. The most truly perfect items were produced in numbers of exactly one.</p><p>One. That was in Atobe’s possession.</p><p>This year, such an unequaled item was also one made in gold with a stiletto heel capable of carving his initials in the vacuum of space.</p><p>The boots in question had been the work of fashion mogul, Kamio Akira; the prior resident of a rogue world whose lack of a star made it the location of the most famous and exclusive nightclub in the Galaxy. The thigh-high armoured gold contraptions were designed to make an unquestionable statement of obscene wealth and unique taste in an environment where the patrons had to provide all the (lime)light.</p><p>They were also the pièce de résistance in the artist’s final work.</p><p>Days before Atobe’s precious shipment was due to leave the planet, Kamio had vanished. The dark world had swallowed up man, studio, every one of the art pieces in the vicinity, and Atobe’s sizeable bank transfer. Not only was Kamio Akira no longer producing work, but the complete disappearance of his recent portfolio had catapulted his legacy from contemporary art into its own historical niche.</p><p>Of course, that would have made the boots even more valuable.</p><p>It was a loss that not even six ostentatious martini glasses could replace.</p><p>Lifting up the empty crate, Atobe paused. On one of the velvet cushioned chairs placed by the window in the bar sat a cat. The fluffy Himalayan was in the middle of a bath, suggesting both a complete disregard for the upholstery and a presence of quite some minutes. The Ice Bar was not yet open for the evening and the door was closed. Despite the flexibility and overly comfortable attitude that the feline was currently demonstrating, the creature had not yet developed opposable thumbs nor the criminal nature required to work a lock. For that…</p><p>Atobe closed his eyes for a moment before slowly turning to face the table that he knew would be occupied. A young man sat at his ease, despite being seated in a chair designed more for elegance than comfort. His blue hair curled around a face that held friendly interest as he seemingly examined the light fittings above the bar counter. Slender fingers wrapped around a cup that appeared to hold a warm beverage which must have been brewed recently, yet was missing from the Ice Bar’s repertoire. Below the glass table top, two silver shopping bags sat neatly by the table legs and between them…</p><p>Atobe took a sharp intake of breath through his nose as his lips pressed firmly together. Slowly he set the crate back down on the counter.</p><p>Gold glinted from between the folds of his guest’s long coat, almost concealed and yet very definitely not. Heel points gleamed like a knife edge capable of burying an artist in the depths of space-time.</p><p>Briefly, Atobe took an inventory of the people Yukimura Seiichi would have had to have passed to reach his current location. His shuttle must have docked at the Karura’s visitor port, heavy with traffic at this time of year and also situated on the opposing side of the space station to the Ice Bar. Greeted formally by the Karura’s transport staff, the man would have been requested to visit the sick bay in order to prevent the transmission of any off-world diseases spreading through the circulated air supply. He would then have walked along the crowded promenade, apparently stopping to make purchases from at least two shops. Amidst the afternoon crowds, the interloper finally picked the lock on Atobe’s bar and let inside a cat in search for a suitable spot to wash its anus.</p><p>Of course, Atobe knew Yukimura was capable of avoiding nearly all of the Karura’s visitor protocols. But somehow he suspected that today, he had fulfilled every single one. The shopping bags were an unnecessary touch.</p><p>Hundreds of people. All of whom would have had adequate opportunity to see the unforgettable boots of the late artist Kamio Akira on the feet of a bounty hunter. Yet, not a single one would have said a word. Such was the reputation of Yukimura Seiichi.</p><p>Atobe doubted whether the artist’s disappearance would ever be remarked upon again. Which meant the boots were available. For the right price. Pouring himself the correct beverage into one of his martini glasses, Atobe stepped around the bar and slid gracefully into the seat opposite Yukimura. He said nothing, slate grey eyes watching the other in silence.</p><p>"The lights are a nice touch,” Yukimura said easily, his eyes still studying the array above the bar behind them.</p><p>Atobe did not turn around. “The cat is not.”</p><p>Violet eyes drifted over to where the Ice Bar’s fluffy addition had worked down to its pointed tail tip. “They are such clean creatures. You should be honoured, Keigo.”</p><p>Atobe did not dignify the statement with a response. There was little point in small talk when the real purpose of the meeting was—quite literally—between them. His eyes looked down through the table glass at the distinctive gold shimmer. It would not be a matter of money. Yukimura was one of the few customers whom Atobe was satisfied could order anything on the menu without a credit check. This would be for something that the murder of a galactic renowned artist was but a stepping stone. When he looked back up, Yukimura was watching him.</p><p>"Atobe. I need a favour.”</p><p>Raising his glass to his lips, Atobe took the contents in one swallow. Carefully he placed the glass back on the table, savouring the after taste of gin.</p><p>“Yes,” he replied cooly. “I rather thought you might.”</p>
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